


Let It Snow

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, College AU, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, SteveTonyFest, let it snow, stac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(or, the stevetony college!AU in which things transpire between them over the winter.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Snow

Steve bites on the tip of his pencil as he spreads out a collection of his sketches on the desk. It’s snowing outside in the first week of November, and having been allocated to a dorm with a prime view of the college park, there isn’t much to complain about. Even when he’s swamped with last minute coursework for his architecture project, it doesn’t really bother him. What does bother him, though, is the sheer amount of noise coming from his dorm neighbor, who can never seem to let anyone enjoy a quiet evening in.

Tony Stark. Not a single day has passed where the name hasn’t been mentioned, and frankly, Steve can’t, for the love of god, understand why. The chants coming from the room beside his gets louder and louder – followed by hooting laughter and the sound of champagne being popped. He’s been here for a semester, lived next to from the prodigal son himself for a semester, and yet he still finds himself baffled as to why people were so attracted to him.

Steve tried to distract himself by touching up on his sketches. He has been working on the design for the new gazebos being planned in the campus. His professor has requested that everyone’s designs are completed by the end of winter, hoping that at least one student comes up with something that they could actually build by the time spring comes along. He traces one of his lines slowly, but the thumping just gets louder and louder that Steve eventually just drops his pencil and storms to the door.

He knocks on Tony’s door, suppressing the urge to just yell at him from outside. It would’ve been futile anyways, since the music is so loud that he could barely even hear his own knocking.

By a stroke of luck – although Steve isn’t sure if that’s what it is – Tony opens the door.

“Heeello there, neighbor,” Tony slurs. He’s wearing a red button up shirt, which isn’t actually buttoned up to the top. It’s slightly scruffy around the collar, and Steve starts noticing the hickeys on his neck.

“Um,” Steve starts, unsure of where to start.

“Looking to join the party?” Tony asks, leaning into the doorframe and smiling as he presses his cheek to the frame.

“Um, no, that’s— that’s not why I’m here,” Steve says, trying his best to sound firm. “I just wanted to say—“

“That you needed a drink?” Tony says.

“No, I—”

“Wanted friends to compensate for all your lonely nights alone?”

“No, I wanted to ask if you—”

“Could be your fuck buddy tonight?” Tony says, and Steve goes bright red in an instant.

“I just wanted to ask you if you could turn down the music!” Steve blurts out, and Tony stops smiling.

Steve gets nervous for a moment. He wanted to appear firm but not rude, so he starts worrying about coming off as a complete asshole. Tony looks at him for what feels like the longest time, and then turned his head to look at the group of people laughing and dancing inside his room. It’s bigger than the average dorm room, and Steve notices that there are even strobe lights flashing inside.

“Sorry, I was just trying to finish up on a project, and, I didn’t mean to—“

“Sure,” Tony says. “I’ll turn it down.”

Steve stays quiet, trying to read Tony’s expression. Tony then turns around and tells someone to turn down the music, and when the guy asks why, Tony threatens to kick him out of the party. The music then turns down a couple of notches almost immediately. Tony looks back at Steve, who nods and looks down as he thinks of what to say next.

“A thank you would be nice,” Tony says, and shrugs as he stands straight up. “Unless you’re going to be a dick about the whole thing, then—”

“Thank you,” Steve says, and heads straight back to his room.

“You’re welcome!” he hears Tony calling out as he slams the door shut behind him.

He vowed to himself to never do that again.

-

The next morning, Steve wakes up with a headache and eyes that he can barely lift open. He had spent the entire night finishing up on his project in the hopes of being able to spend the weekend doing something else, but Tony’s mini party next door had continued to run into the late am – that doesn’t even include the after party in which guests were only allowed inside upon private invitations.

Steve had tried to ignore the noises coming from the other side throughout the night, he really did, but sometimes walls weren’t thick enough to block unwanted noises from an incessantly obnoxious neighbor.

He drags himself out of bed to the kitchen to get some milk, and after burying his head in the freezer for nearly five minutes, he feels someone tapping his shoulder.

“Hey,” someone says. “Hey, are you falling asleep in there?”

Steve jerks up, and bangs his head on the side of the fridge.

“Yep, you were definitely asleep.” Steve turns around, and sees Tony Stark standing behind him in a striped red and white robe. The sight is enough to make him question whether or not he’s actually awake.

Tony notices the staring, and after a while just proceeds to pick up Steve and drag him to the nearest seat on the counter. He hands him the carton of milk and a cup, which surprises Steve, to say the least.

“Pour as much as you need, then give it back to me, I need my morning coffee.”

“Okay,” Steve replies, slowly pouring the milk into the cup.

Tony tilts his head a little and looks at him. “You sure you didn’t sneak into my room for a drink last night? You look like shit, my friend. Even I can’t top that, and I can’t even count the number of shots I took last night. Seriously, do you need to see a nurse or something? You’re about as hammered as it can get, and I know we haven’t spoken a whole lot or anything but you look pretty dandy most of the time.”

“Dandy?” Steve pauses as he takes a sip from his milk and turns to Tony. What is he even saying, he thinks to himself. He’s pretty sure that just hearing the amount of words being said is making his headache even worse. Tony starts making coffee at the end of the counter and pulls in the milk carton closer towards him.

“Yeah, dandy. You know, chirpy, bright, upbeat. Everything that I have never been, as a matter of fact,” Tony starts talking again, and Steve starts to wonder just how often Tony pays attention to Steve.

“Seriously, I see you sitting in the park sometimes drawing in your notebook, and you have this look on your face that just spells out: ‘the world around me is wonderful and I feel so liberated to be sitting here on this bench’ – that’s the kind of vibe you usually give off. Except this morning, so tell me, what’s the deal? What killed your vibe?”

Tony finishes brewing his drink, and starts stirring the coffee in his cup. Steve clears his throat and wonders what he could possibly say that wouldn’t offend Tony in any way. Not that he didn’t deserve the offence – after all the disruptive things he has done, he probably did – but Steve just keeps going back to the fact that Tony actually did what Steve had asked him to do, which was turn the music down. Granted, there was still a lot of noise from other things, but Steve didn’t specify for that, so he’s having a pretty hard time painting Tony as the bad guy.

“I, uh… I just had a late start to my project and pulled an all-nighter to wrap things up. You know, the usual,” Steve replies, shrugging as he buries his head between his shoulders while taking another sip out of his cup.

“Huh, I get it,” Tony says. “So it had nothing to do with the fact that I was having incredibly loud sex beside your room.”

Steve spits out his milk – thankfully, into the kitchen sink.

“So the threesome didn’t bother you at all? You would’ve been invited, you know, if you didn’t run away and lock yourself into your room last night.”

“I… have to go,” Steve says. “This is getting slightly awkward.”

“Oh, you bet it is.”

Steve leaves the cup in the sink and washes his hands before leaving. As he is about to walk out, Tony calls out for him once more.

“If I wanted to give you an RSVP for my next party who should I be sending it to?”

“Probably anyone but me,” Steve replies. “Trust me, I don’t do parties very well. Or at all, actually.”

“I was actually asking for a name,” Tony says. “We’ve been living right next to each other for almost three months now and we barely even talk. Unless, you’re some sort of secret agent thing who can’t reveal your name to anyone, but then again you should have some sort of an alias. Or it could be that you don’t have a name at all, which is odd, to say the least – can you even apply to college without a name? But if that’s the case, we should probably think of one for you, I’d say—”

“Steve,” he finally replies. “My name is Steve Rogers.”

Tony finally stops talking, and the corner of his mouth quirks up slightly after Steve says his name.

“Steve,” he says, as if tasting the sound on his tongue. “I like that.”

“I’ll see you around, Tony,” Steve says, and then briskly walks out of the kitchen.

Running away from Tony Stark seems to have turned into a common practice these days, and to be frank, Steve isn’t so sure how to feel about that.

-

The next few days with Tony are strange, to say the least. Steve feels as if he’s gone from zero to a hundred overnight, since Tony is now actually attempting to make conversation with him on a regular basis. For example, their morning sessions in the kitchen have become somewhat of a ritual. Steve would wake up first, and would pour himself a glass of milk as he reads a couple of newspapers or articles on the tablet that Tony lends him. Tony would then stumble in, half asleep or half awake, and would take Steve’s milk carton and make a cup of coffee for himself. Sometimes they talk, but sometimes Tony just dozes off on the counter while Steve keeps himself busy by reading something.

Steve doesn’t mind, and to be completely honest, he would be lying if he claims to have never spent more than a few seconds looking at Tony while he’s fast asleep. It’s oddly comforting, seeing Tony calm and quiet for once. It sure as hell doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it sort of enchants Steve in a way that he can’t explain.

On the days that Tony is awake though, he would talk endlessly about either an engineering project that he’s been working on, or the wild parties that he’s been at over the weekend. Steve can barely understand either topic, but Tony’s charismatic in a way that whatever he says makes him sound like he’s preaching the gospel. It’s impossible to ignore, even when he starts blabbering – Steve might get lost in the conversation, but he listens to every word.

Occasionally someone else would pop into the kitchen to have breakfast or Tony’s friends would call him up to meet up. Tony knows petty much everyone on campus, and Steve found himself picking up acquaintances as fast as he can run during bright summer days.

One day though, Tony is noticeably absent from their morning sessions. Steve has finished drinking three glasses of milk, with just enough left in the carton for Tony to use in his coffee. He decides to make Tony a cup of coffee by himself and visit him in his dorm. Midterms are coming up next week, and from what Steve knows about Tony, he suspects that he’s been doing anything apart from studying last night.

He brings the hot cup of coffee into the hallway when he suddenly sees a girl walking down the hallway in a black skirt, a button up top and sharp red stilettos. Her hair is bright orange, bouncing on her shoulders and on the bangs on her forehead as she walks down the hallway with the precision and speed of someone throwing a knife across the room.

Steve tries to catch up with her, and he’s quick to recognize exactly who she is.

“Pepper Potts?” he says, running towards her while trying not to spill the cup of coffee in his hands. “You’re Tony’s best friend.”

He’s heard of her so many times before, and from what Tony tells him, she seems like the only person who’s able to put him in his place whenever he gets a little bit too wild. She doesn’t answer him until she reaches Tony’s dorm room and knocks on the door several times. Her face looks worried, and Steve senses that something’s wrong. When she turns towards him, she looks at him up and down.

“You must be Steve,” she says.

“Uh, yes?” Steve feels slightly self-conscious all of a sudden.

She smiles to herself momentarily before saying, “Tony tells me a lot about you.”

“What—”

“Tony, open the door,” she yells, knocking even harder than before.

When she’s met with silence, she pulls out a keycard from her clutch bag and swipes it on Tony’s door. It clicks open and Steve follows her inside. Tony is curled up in bed under a thick blanket, with bottles and sheets of papers scattered all over the room.

“What happened?” Steve asks, as both him and Pepper stand over Tony. “Tony, are you okay?”

Tony doesn’t reply, but he turns over and faces the wall.

“His dad visited yesterday,” Pepper replies. Her tone was enough to tell Steve that that isn’t a good thing.

Howard Stark. Steve doesn’t know a whole lot about him besides the fact that he’s Tony’s father, and that he’s built an empire for their entire family. He leans over to Tony, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. As he bends down, he notices the faint bruises on Tony’s cheek.

“Fucking hell,” Pepper says, putting an arm on her forehead. Steve is horrified, to say the least, but he isn’t sure what to do at this point.

“Tony? It’s me,” Steve coaxes him. “Hey, Pepper and I are here to help.”

“God, this place is a mess. Steve, can we bring him into your room? I’ll clean up a little bit,” she says.

“No,” Tony mumbles. “Just… call the cleaning service.”

Pepper smiles in relief and replies, “Will do. But for now, Steve’s going to bring you to his room.”

“But I don’t wanna move,” he groans, eyelids still closed.

“Well it’s your lucky day, Mr. Stark, because you won’t have to lift a muscle.” She looks over at Steve and bites her lip as she smiles. “Pretty please?”

-

If someone had told Steve that one day he’d be carrying Tony Stark, bridal style into his bed, with Tony practically clinging onto him as if his life depended on it, he would have probably laughed right in their faces and proceeded to walk away. And yet, here we are.

-

Tony doesn’t talk much at first. Pepper left for a couple interviews for some of her internship work. Steve isn’t sure what to do with the fragile future billionaire that’s curled up in his bed. Is it too cold? Does Tony want the blinds to be shut? Or does Tony find the view of snow outside comforting? Does he need anything? A drink maybe— but not that kind of a drink. He’s had enough of those.

He never thought it would be this complicated.

-

“Was he always like this?” Steve asks, in what seems to be a game of 20 Questions about Tony and his dad.

“Pretty much,” Tony says, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Steve is sitting in his chair in front of him, trying to hold in his anger. Tony seems to notice, and then says, “Well, I guess he’s gotten a bit better. Back then, this would just be the beginning.”

Tony points at the small bruise on his left cheekbone. “Either that or he’s just getting old. I wonder how old he has to be ‘til he can’t touch me anymore.”

“Don’t say that,” Steve says, shaking his head.

“What—that didn’t sound like a death wish for Dad, did it?”

“No, not that. You said that he’s gotten better. Men like him don’t ever get better, Tony. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Tony purses his lips, shrugging as he looks around Steve’s room. It’s decorated with artwork all over the place. Steve notices him noticing and suddenly gets a little bit shy. His sketches, portraits, landscape drawings, as well as his architecture project are all stuck there on the walls in plain sight for Tony to look and judge.

“A little bit obsessed with gazebos, Rogers?” Tony points at the sketches on the wall opposite to them.

“Oh, that— that was meant for a class project. I submitted my designs already, those were just the concept art.” He looks down and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, they’re not that good, I mean I probably won’t even get picked in the end but—”

“They’re pretty good,” Tony says.

“Uh, thanks?” Steve replies, blushing slightly. Tony jumps out of Steve’s bed all of a sudden and starts walking towards the wall. Steve is frightened that he’s going to collapse and follows close behind him.

“Relax, Rogers. I got slapped, not beaten with a baseball bat. I may not look pretty for the next couple of days, but I’ll be fine.”

Steve frowns and grips his shoulder. “Tony, don’t—”

Tony looks at him, and on the hand on his shoulder. Steve doesn’t let go, and his thumb begins to slowly press into the cleft of his collarbone. He starts moving it along his bone, pressing down slowly like a gentle massage. He hears Tony breaths getting shorter, so he retracts quickly.

“You know whenever my dad used to touch me like that it usually meant that he was about to hit me.”

Shit. “I… uh,” Steve is completely speechless. He screwed up, big time.

“But I know you’re not my dad, and if I told you that I didn’t feel scared just now—either all of my fear towards him just disappeared or, something else just happened.”

“Tony…”

Suddenly, Steve feels Tony’s fingers carefully intertwining themselves with his. He feels his face burning, and his heart beating faster and faster. Tony, on the other hand, looks completely still, and he’s looking at him as if he’s just discovered an entire new universe in his eyes.

“You should consider getting a spray tan, Rogers,” Tony says, and Steve looks at him questioningly. “Seriously, you look like someone just leaked one of your high school sex tapes.”

“I trust you know what that feels like,” Steve quips.

Tony laughs, shaking his head. “You don’t know a lot of things about me, Rogers.”

“You’re right,” Steve replies. “We talk in the mornings but it’s never more than that. You have parties nearly every night in which I remain uninvited, you have friends that you’ve never introduced to me – but apparently they know a lot about me? Yeah, I don’t think we know each other that much.”

Tony tightens his grip around Steve’s hand, and then pulls him closer. He then lets go of Steve’s hand, and Steve feels something holding on to his waist. He looks down, and then up at Tony’s brown eyes staring right at him from under his thick lashes.

“I disagree,” Tony says, running his hands upwards on Steve’s torso and eventually wrapping his arms around his neck.

Steve takes a deep breath and slowly puts his arms on Tony’s waist. He finally manages to reply with, “Which part do you disagree with?”

Suddenly, Tony gets two inches taller. Steve realizes that he’s standing on his tiptoes now, and in one quick movement, he kisses Steve’s lips gently. It’s so soft, in fact, that Steve barely feels anything when Tony pulls away.

“You’re actually always invited to my parties,” Tony tells him after the kiss, as if their conversation had never been interrupted. “If you’d knock on the door on any given night, I would’ve gladly let you in. But there’s just one problem with that.”

Tony’s arms are still wrapped around Steve’s neck, and Steve finds himself tightening his grip on Tony’s waist. He feels Tony’s lips on his neck, and he hears himself moaning softly.

“Tony, I—this doesn’t seem like a good idea,” Steve says, and Tony nudges the upper part of his neck with his nose.

“Tell me why,” Tony whispers.

“Because… ah, Tony. Because I don’t want to be doing this and have to listen to you having sex tonight with someone else,” Steve admits, and Tony stops immediately.

He sees Tony looking up at him, and watches him shrink again. How long was Tony standing on his tiptoes again?

“I didn’t mean to— I mean,” Steve tries to explain, but he sees Tony looking down already and shit, was he being a dick?

“I get it,” Tony says. “I know what you think about me, Steve.”

“Tony—“

“You don’t have to explain, I know exactly what you mean. But in my defense, I feel like I should tell you this—I like you, Steve. And I don’t want to be with anyone else but you right now, and okay, you probably have pretty good reasons not to trust me but that’s the truth.”

He walks towards the door and Steve wants to go after him, he really does, but something keeps him glued to the floor. Maybe it’s his guilt, or the fact that he totally doesn’t deserve Tony at all after this.

“Sorry for the noise pollution, Rogers. I’ll try to keep it down,” Tony says, and the door clicks behind him.

If there was an award for the Biggest Fuck Up of all time, Steve would have won it already.

-

The next couple of weeks leading up to Christmas are quiet. Most people have already gone away for the holidays, either back to their families or for vacation somewhere. Steve and Tony end up being the only ones left; Tony because he isn’t going anywhere near his father again, and Steve because, well – because of Tony.

They still have their morning breakfast sessions, but its sort of awkward nowadays. They don’t talk as much, and even when they do, it’s with an air of tension in between them.

Still, at least it’s something.

-

On the night of Christmas Eve, Steve finds himself standing outside in the middle of the college park. He’s holding a bunch of papers, his sketches, actually, that have been long taped to his wall ever since he submitted his assignment. He surveys the area around him and tries to picture the gazebo he designed placed right in the middle of the snowy hill, just several yards away from the frozen pond.

Suddenly, he hears footsteps coming towards him and turns around. It’s Tony, bundled up in his little coat, with mufflers that are also a little too big for his head.

“Still brooding over nothing, Rogers?” Tony says, trying to follow Steve’s eye-line.

“Mine was chosen,” Steve says, handing over the papers to Tony. He breaks into a full-fledged smile and tells him again. “My gazebo design, they’re going to start building it sometime in the spring.”

Tony takes several moments to scan the papers, but doesn’t say anything. Steve thinks that Tony’s still mad at him, or he just— isn’t interested anymore.

“Congratulations,” Tony says. Steve sees him smile a little bit, and Tony continues on to say, “Proud of you, Rogers. I knew they were good designs, and, to be honest, if you weren’t chosen I would’ve built it for you anyways.”

Steve blushes, suddenly feeling a slight burn on his cold cheeks.

“You know I’m sorry—“

“I actually didn’t mean to—“

Both of them say in unison, and Steve clears his throat and lets Tony go first.

“I guess I just, came here to say that— I didn’t mean to sort of bail on you these past few weeks. That day when I was uh, in your room, I guess I came off a little too strong and I probably shouldn’t jump the gun next time, not with someone like you.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Steve replies. “Really, Tony, I was just—taken aback a little, I didn’t know what to do and—”

“You were reminded my rep,” Tony nods, and then continues. “It’s fine, I get it now. You wouldn’t want to be with someone like me.”

“Actually, I do.” When Steve looks at Tony again, he tries to smile at him. He looks completely floored at the words, clutching Steve’s sketches in his hands and looking up at him as if he was the sun.

“I like you, Tony,” Steve repeats himself. “I always have, I just didn’t realize it until—until that day, and I was a bit confused at first but, ah. I'm sorry for judging you so much before that. I shouldn't have done that.”

Tony looks at him for a while, and then bites his lip as he looks away and says, “Yeah, why not. You’re cute, you’re forgiven, Rogers.”

Steve takes him by the hand, the same way he did that day. Except this time both of them are feeing comfortable, like they belong with one another and that nothing else, not even the snow and the cold outside could make them part.

They look at each other and Tony stands on his tiptoes again, which is not officially a sign of Tony asking for a kiss. Steve smiles and gently cups his jaw, while gently pressing their cold lips together. He finally feels warmth as Tony slowly opens his mouth, and thank god no one else is in the bark because the kiss just seems to keep going on and on like an overdue date.

When they finally stop, Tony wraps his arms around Steve’s body and leans on him while Steve holds him close.

“You know, that gazebo is going to look pretty good in the summer,” Tony says, and Steve begins to imagine it in front of them. “Is it open to the public?”

“Of course it is,” Steve replies, slightly confused.

“That’s too bad, because I had others plans with it that would've required a little privacy.”

Steve chuckles, and then proceeds to pick him up, bridal style. Tony is a little surprised, and slightly offended at the fact that Steve manages to do so easily. But then again, it is Steve.

“Well, I'm sure there are other places for us to go. You seemed pretty comfortable that day on my bed right?”

“It was like the crib I never had,” Tony replies.

They both smile at each other, and Steve carries Tony all the way back to his dorms. Through the snow, through the cold, and through the unyielding dark of the night, they stay close together.

 


End file.
